


Light in the Dark

by Puimoo



Category: World Trigger
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puimoo/pseuds/Puimoo
Summary: It starts with a kiss, and Kei expects it to also end there.It doesn't.Or: Tachikawa and Arashiyama kiss under some mistletoe (as per tradition), and spend the next few months flirting awkwardly with each other.  No-one is very impressed.





	Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I even start? This was only meant to be a short little ficlet while I was making some decisions about the next chapter of 'Blood Letters'. It turned into this beast of a fic, and I am not entirely sure how. Long fics are definitely not my forte, and yet this one managed to eat me alive. It probably needs another 3-4 edits to whip it into shape, but to be honest it has exhausted me so completely that I don't think I CAN give it another once over. There is so much in this that explores some of my thoughts re: Arashiyama and Kei both as individuals and as a pair.
> 
> And, also! A couple of links to some fanfic exchanges that have World Trigger characters in the tag sets, because the world needs more World Trigger fic!
> 
> https://trickortreatex.dreamwidth.org/  
> https://multifandomtropefest.dreamwidth.org/

The Christmas party has barely started, but there is music playing, the room is crowded with Border agents, and alcohol is being served up in thin plastic cups. Kei has downed half of one and lost the whole of another, and while it is maybe the tackiest of parties that Kei has been to (and Kei does so well enjoy tacky) it is enough to simply be in a space where there is this odd mixture of laughter, strawberry cheesecake, and the salty tang of KFC in the air.

It has been one of those years, much like the one before and likely to be just like the one that they tiptoe close to now, only days away and with false promises of something different, something better. Kei is neither a fatalist nor a nihilist – both take far too much work. He likes life full and danced on the edge of a katana, but it seems that this is a world that is shifting sideways instead of finding its feet again, gaining ground again.

At least this is ground not lost, and Kei is happy to toast to that.

He does so, sharing a cheer with two others, their faces familiar, names completely optional at this stage and likely to become a complete and utter afterthought as the night draws longer and Kei heads happily towards fully sloshed.

He’s certainly on the way there by drink number three, and he groans dramatically when his cell phone rings, buzzing deep in his pockets. There is too much noise to take the call here, and Kei moves to step out of the room to take it. He dances around his own team – Takeru with his cheeks already flushed red, Kohei wearing a devious smile and camera phone poised.

He shares an awkward nod with Miwa, there are just some people who are not naturally made for parties like this and alcohol only complicates manners. He artistically avoids a half-spilled glass of cheap wine, a cheeky attempt to grab his butt, and ends a conga line the moment it tries to cling to his hips and drag him into its sway.

It is only when he tries to pass through the door, meeting Arashiyama there as the other squad leader arrives late after some surely magical winter Christmas wish to the public that Kei finds himself caught.

"A-ah-ah!" some random calls from deep in the room, gesturing upwards. And of course, there is a sprig of mistletoe there, Kei has already used it to his devious advantage twice this evening and has enjoyed the mix of horror and anticipation that greets each trapped pair.

Arashiyama isn't exactly high on Kei's Christmas wish list, but there are rules to be followed and Christmas cheer to be spread. Besides, Arashiyama smiles in response to the taunt, all humour and lightness and really, you'd barely be able to tell that he's just come off a 12-hour shift. It is all the confirmation Kei needs, and he leans down slightly to place the briefest of kisses against Arashiyama lips as he passes through the door.

When Kei returns it is to a room thronging with music and the beautifully obnoxious behaviour that alcohol tends to bring. Even the younger agents steal a sip or two, and Kei hides his smirk behind his 3rd glass, then his forth.

They've needed this. Some silly time together, a moment away from the everlasting threat of invasion. The party stretches late into the evening, late enough that Kei is the last to leave but – alas – with his own team rather than some sleazy last-minute hook-up.

It is only Arashiyama who remains, patiently tidying up the last of the mess they have all left behind and promising to lock up. Someone has to, Kei supposes, and right now he’s just glad it’s not him (it never is, because Kei can neither be trusted with keys or cleaning supplies). He is half way to the exit when he realises that he is sans-phone, a terrible position for anyone to be but especially in the middle of a never-ending invasion threat when life can change on the spin of a coin. 

He is in luck, catching Arashiyama just as he goes to leave, caught in the doorway of their party room and his fingers reaching up to remove the mistletoe that stills hangs there. Kei smiles in greeting as he goes to brush past, stopping abruptly as his mind catches up with his body.

Ah. The mistletoe.

Even without an audience, protocol must be followed.

And maybe it's because Kei is a little tipsy, or because all of the festive atmosphere and laughter and food has made him a little light headed, but Arashiyama looks almost inviting in this light, tired eyes still sparkling and hair a touch tussled. It's easy to lean down again, to capture those lips again - to taste the alcohol that lingers on those suddenly perfect lips. If he means for it to be just a peck again then that thought is lost, suddenly, and instead Kei is deepening the kiss as Arashiyama leans upwards lazily.

And dear lord, Arashiyama is moaning lightly into Kei's mouth, and it is all Kei can do but press Arashiyama up against the doorframe, feel his lean body arch up against his-

When Kei pulls back it is not quite away, not when his hand is tangled in Arashiyama's hair and Arashiyama's hands have settled on his hips. Arashiyama is all bruised lips and eyes blunted with surprise, and that is at least fair because right now Arashiyama is unredeemable, senselessly _everything_. 

"So, any plans for the rest of the evening?" Kei asks, his voice low and a little lost even as a smirk comes naturally to his lips and his fingers begin to toy in Arashiyama’s hair. There is no time to think where this sudden need - this unexpected want - has come from. He assumes it has orientated somewhere from Arashiyama’s mouth, caught in the edges of his smile. 

And, _oh,_ the hesitation that suddenly flickers in Arashiyama’s gaze is delightfully promising, and Kei’s heart catches in his chest-

"Kei, hurry up!” Kohei’s curt voice flits through the corridor. “The bars are going to close soon!” 

Kei groans dramatically, cursing his team mates to the ethers.

"Merry Christmas," Arashiyama says with a tiny smile, even as that piercing, emerald gaze searches for something deep in Kei. It's suddenly status quo all over again as Arashiyama pushes himself away from the doorframe, detangles himself from Kei, and sidesteps away. 

Well.

Almost.

Kei's fingers trail through Arashiyama’s hair as he goes, ghosting over his shoulders and down, down the curve of his back.

And if Arashiyama shivers just so at his touch, it seems only fair.

Kei doesn’t realise until the next day that he had forgotten to retrieve his phone.

***

__

_Kitora is unfortunately used to her captain's quirks; the way his easy smiles dissolve seamlessly into clinical determination, how he manages to obnoxiously bring up photos of his siblings on his phone whenever they have a single moment of downtime._

_This, however, is not normal. Not even Arashiyama’s special brand of normal._

_"Are you hungover? She asks suspiciously. Clearly the Christmas party is to blame for her captain’s oddly distracted behaviour this morning. Arashiyama wears a different look when it is a family related problem: a sort of twisted smile that holds both affection and a touch of hurt in balance._

_Arashiyama blinks, surprised, then laughs wide._

_"No, I'm not," Arashiyama says, honest and earnest. There is no reproach in his voice, probably because he is used to Kitora taking such a tone with him. "Although I do feel that maybe last night was..." he trails off, lost._

_And there it is again. Arashiyama is rarely at a loss for words, how can he when he always speaks so directly from his heart?_

_Kitora really has no time for such shenanigans, and so she huffs and turns back to her work. When Arashiyama has the decency to re-join them then maybe then they will get something done today._

***

It all ends there, naturally. Kei's taste in men runs towards those who are good for a night or two and then can be returned to the cookie-cutter box they come from (attractive, easy, not particularly clever but with enough bite to hold Kei's interest for a short while). He hasn't the time nor the inclination for someone like Arashiyama, he has never even stopped before to consider whether the other man is all that attractive beneath his media glimmer and blasé kindness. The next couple of men Kei sleeps with look nothing like Arashiyama at all, all dark eyes and short hair and unkissable lips.

They are perfectly polite when they pass each other in the corridors or when they are called into a shared meeting. Arashiyama smiles with uncalculated professionalism and Kei smirks around a not-quite-clever quip. 

Still. 

"We thought backup wasn't going to get here in time." Arashiyama says gratefully, dirt and blood smeared across his forehead and riding up into his hairline. Arashiyama is an unholy mess, clearly having turned off his trion body at some point to remain in position but wearing that decision in the heaviness of his shoulders and the slashes in his uniform. The room he is barricaded up in has borne the brunt of one of the more recent explosions, but it has a perfect view of the unexpected attack down below. Kei steadies himself as another explosion rumbles through the building, but all it does is add an extra sheen of adrenalin to Arashiyama's serious gaze. 

Damn Arashiyama and his unexpectedly sexy competence. Kei hadn’t even known this was a thing, but as Arashiyama calmly takes him through the current configuration of both friendly and not so friendly troops, Kei allows just a second to admire the focus Arashiyama carries between his brow and the casual way he tries to brush his dust and blood and mud caked hair back from his eyes.

Only a second, of course. Kei is a part-time professional himself, although he prefers to delegate that responsibility to others. Sexy rebel leader suits him far better. His gaze follows Arashiyama's description of the scene below, asking all the appropriate questions before dipping down beneath the windowsill with Arashiyama each time a new explosion hits too close.

"We've lost all radio contact with headquarters." Kei is matter of fact, clinical, and Arashiyama nods in response. He knows exactly what Kei is asking of him. It's risky for Arashiyama to stay here and provide aerial oversight to the teams below when he is not wrapped in trion bubble wrap, but they are out of options and Arashiyama has picked his lookout astutely. "I'm sure I can find a creative repayment method," Kei promises wickedly.

Arashiyama cocks an eyebrow and suddenly grins, and it's all rather delightfully unexpected in the middle of a possible invasion.

"You do have a reputation for it." 

And. 

Dear _lord._

It sinks in that they may, somehow, almost actually be flirting. 

Arashiyama turns away abruptly and Kei bites down hard on his desire to inform Arashiyama that all the rumours are true (at least, all the best ones). 

It's brilliant and terrible all in one tantalising cocktail, and Kei chuckles as he rises, using Arashiyama's shoulder as a lean.

"I think both of our teams will deserve a drink after this, at least," Kei says, and Arashiyama is grateful again for completely different reasons. While Arashiyama may be the one knee deep in politics, Kei has years of experience exiting uncomfortable conversations.

The four teams involved do go out for drinks afterwards, although Arashiyama originally begs off, stating he is catching up with his brother for a movie night. He still turns up a couple of hours later with a slightly forced smile and a simple ‘there was a change in plans’, but Kei has the perfect drink for that, with a slightly less perfect (but far more potent) one to follow.

***

__

_Fuku loves his brother, he really does. It’s just there is something so embarrassing about being seen with Jun in public that makes for a less than fun evening. If Fuku is to be frank (and he often is) the only thing less fun than going out with Jun is going out with his mother and being caught holding her hand._

_Em-barr-assing._

_It’s not like he sees Jun all that much anymore, anyway. Jun has his little apartment in some expensive building and barely ever comes down from his ivory tower to see the rest of them mortals. Even if he were to go out with Jun there is a good chance that his brother will fall asleep half way through the movie, and what fun is there in that?_

_So, Fuku coughs unconvincingly when Jun calls to confirm their movie, says he unwell and NO he does not need Jun to drop by with any medication, please no. He goes to see the movie with his sister instead, and promises Jun that they’ll catch up some time when he’s feeling well again. Just, you know. Not too soon._

_Arg. Why can’t Jun catch up with their parents instead?_

__

***

Kei always enjoys providing commentary for matches, it's a nice respite from training and gives him a chance to not-so-gently rib on his lesser colleagues. That he is sharing duties today with Jin is both a blessing and a curse. While they tend to bring out the worst in each other, their 'worst' is often brilliantly fun. Certainly, the Arashiyama unit vs Kusakabe unit is a match meant for more than just for the casual commentator.

"And the Arashiyama squad are led by Arashiyama Jun, a key allrounder who, according to at least three magazines I’ve read this week, is also known for filling out his uniform very nicely." Kei introduces the teams easily as they settle into position. It's a fun match to commentate on, full of interesting moves and occasionally spiteful intent. If Kei spends a touch more time than usual following Arashiyama's mixture of creative teleportation and sure-fire shots as he directs his team with a firm eye for victory, then Kei is only falling into line with what the audience clearly want.

The match ends in a timed-out draw, and Jin and Kei end up celebrating a job done awesomely at their most favourite place in the world: the vending machine. Kei pays and bends down to pick the packet of chips from the slot, rising back up again to be met by Jin's appraising gaze. His rival is leaning back against the wall, an all too knowing smirk in place.

"Hmm?" Kei asks, clearly innocent of all charges and having no idea at all what could be on Jin’s mind.

"Arashiyama, of all people?" And while Jin is clearly laughing at him, there is almost a threat laced into his words. "I didn't know he was your type."

"Everybody is my type," Kei says piously around a mouthful of crisps. "However, I have no interest in Arashiyama. I prefer my bed mates with a bit more flair and a much smaller social media following."

"You certainly appeared to have a specific interest in tonight's match." Jin’s smirk is one Kei is very familiar with. “Or, should I say, particular aspects of it.”

"You should be careful about that imagination of yours, it’s leading you down all sort of misleading paths." Really. Jin's mind is twisted enough as it without the unneeded addition of Kei's not-love life.

Jin smirk only widens, before he bites down obnoxiously on a crisp.

"Who says I was using my imagination?"

Kei only catches on hours later, half way through a training session that almost ends with him skewered though as he freezes mid-move. His second favourite jacket is torn in three places, but more importantly his ego is bruised blue.

He sends the bill to Jin.

***

__

_Ooh-_ kay. __

_"So that was interesting," Ken says when the team watches the battle back later, the commentary piped in. Kitora sits rigid, a hint of a blush tickling across her cheeks, while Mitsuru is making detailed notes in his little book that Ken doubts have anything to do with the match itself._

_Arashiyama-sama's notebook also sits open, but the pages are starkly blank. Arashiyama-sama normally writes screeds of notes, but then all of them have been taken just a touch off guard by the detailed (not to mention oddly specific) commentary that has been on display._

_Ken doesn’t know what disturbs him more: Tachikawa’s sudden interest in his precious, pious captain, or the fact that Arashiyama-sama doesn’t seem at all bothered by it._

_May even, oh no, seem flattered._

_Ken mourns in this moment the death of his captain’s good taste. May it be forever be remembered with fondness._

_"I'm not sure how I feel about Tachikawa commenting on our next battle," Ken adds, suddenly horrified by the thought. Kitora scoffs at that._

_"I have a feeling that has more to do with the fact he picked holes in your defence," she states sternly, already rewinding the tape back to the inappropriate moment._

_"You did leave yourself open more than usual," Arashiyama-sama finally chimes in, noting it down. Ken whines, betrayed by his own captain, in his own safe space! He will never, ever recover from this indignity._

__

***

Dusk is settling in by the time Kei starts to meander through the military university on his way to the front gate, the weak winter sun sitting low and fat in the sky. Kei is idle, slow, away momentarily from his daily world of false bodies and somehow back in his own skin. The sun, the wind, they all feel different when experienced like this, and it’s easy to forget how the seasons actually feel when you move so easily in an entirely fabricated world.

He is heading home after a day pretending to be a student rather than a warrior. It is a pretence that doesn’t suit him well, but one that comes with an unexpected bonus this evening.

Near the front gate Kei stumbles across Arashiyama resting against a tree, eyes closed. The light filtering through the leaves speckle his skin in shadows, rippling across him in a pattern that comes alive as a breeze flickers through the branches. Arashiyama isn't beautiful in this moment, just tired and leeched of energy. He doesn't need someone like Kei disturbing him, and Kei has no particular interest in doing so. It is simply that Arashiyama's nose is scrunched just so, and there is something awkward in the way he sits, textbook clutched tight. 

It's also starting to get cold.

With a sigh, Kei gently removes the book laying suddenly lax in Arashiyama's hands and places it to the side. 

"Arashiyama," Kei says with forced quietness, gently shaking Arashiyama's shoulder. There is a quiet murmur at the back of Arashiyama's throat, ineligible. Kei shakes a second time, a touch more aggressively, and really, he can't be blamed if his next step is to try and awaken the sleeping princess through more traditional means-

Bright eyes fly open, and Kei has read enough manga over the years to know that Arashiyama should be startled prettily awake. He is prepared for dewy eyes and a moment where it takes a second for reality to sink back in. Instead, it appears that Kei has spooked Arashiyama from some place of darkness, as horror and fear shine in his eyes and carry him through those first few moments of wakefulness, stiffening his shoulders and shuddering up through his arms. Kei feels the tremors ripple beneath his fingers but it is Arashiyama's eyes, caught somewhere else and locked desperately on Kei's - that sends a crash of ice down through Kei's veins. 

And then, all that emotion flickers out, and Arashiyama shudders back into himself. An odd fragility remains, as though whatever was haunting Arashiyama's sleep still has its claws sunk into his reality. His smile wobbles just a touch around the edges and one hand claws in the warm grass before splaying out as he forces himself to relax. 

Kei understands the nightmares, knows they are part and parcel with the work they do and the things they see. He's collected his own over the years, ones rich with blood and death, loss and failure. 

"Thank you for waking me," Arashiyama says on his second attempt, swallowing his words on the first occasion in a hoarse gulp. Arashiyama leans forward to push himself up but loses his already precarious balance, and Kei catches him as he falls forward. Arashiyama glances up and they are suddenly so close, Arashiyama's face only millimetres away from Kei's, close enough that his breath catches on Kei's cheeks.

Arashiyama really is pretty up close, especially when he is startled so. It's almost a little sad that Arashiyama is also so polished, so gathered, as he pulls himself together in the next moment and then they're standing again, heading back towards the main campus together with distance between them again, with Arashiyama shaking off his demons and Kei acquiring a few new ones of his own.

***

__

_The training room has been turned into a battlefield, and Jin hears with precision each of the calls as he steps lazily out onto one of the top observation decks._

_He's not altogether surprised to find he is not the only person there, silently observing the mock battle below. Arashiyama leans against the railing, casual and curious and with his eyes oddly hooded._

_"What do you think of him?" Arashiyama asks, voice low and curious, his gaze remaining on the battle below. There are a hundred different things that could have given Jin's approach away, but it is more likely Arashiyama's stellar sense of presence rather than any fault of Jin's that is on show here._

_Arashiyama is not Kei, there is no pretence to play with._

_"Wrong question," Jin says, sliding in beside him. "And you know it." Arashiyama shoots him over a grin but remains silent. "It's unlike you to brood like this." Arashiyama has never given the impression he has time for anything more complex than a friendly smile and a pat on the back, although Jin is more than aware of how inaccurate that portrayal is._

_"Is it?" Arashiyama asks, almost rhetorically, surely rhetorically, but it does make Jin stop and think._

_Jin's relationship with Arashiyama has always been complicated. Arashiyama is an easy person to trust, even when you have a mind as twisted as Jin’s. Arashiyama knows more about his history and his mother than most, and it is information that was given freely rather than farmed. Arashiyama is strong enough within his own values and comfortable enough in who he is to stray away from some of Border's archaic sensibilities when the right decisions need to be made, and Jin knows how prepared Arashiyama is to step up beside Jin even when he doesn’t know entirely what is going on._

_And, yet._

_Jin knows Arashiyama well, but he's never really gotten to know Jun. It's why after all these years Jin still refers to Arashiyama by his last name, even as their professional friendship has deepened beyond simply shared ideals._

_But there are some things he does know, because Jin is much less scrupulous than either Arashiyama OR Jun._

_"He's certainly not Kakizaki." Jin ignores the unknown for what he does hold with certainty._

_Arashiyama's shoulders stiffen at that, and Jin wonders briefly if it is because Arashiyama is surprised that Jin knows or if his reaction comes from a sense of betrayal that Jin chooses to unveil one of Arashiyama’s tightly guarded secrets._

_They watch the battle play out in silence, and Arashiyama tracks the movements of the battle with ease, his gaze flickering between the different players and only occasionally straying too long on all the wrong places._

_Jin can't help but wonder what it is that Jun sees._

__

***

It’s surprisingly boring being caught and left hanging in a prison cell far away from earth. Kei has been here a month, first thrown here with the utmost freedom to pace his 4m by 4m cell as frequently as he so pleased, food sloshed into a bowl and thrust in through a hatch the door. Those had been the good old days, and Kei remembers them fondly. Things had happened then, and that sits better with him that the nothingness that is eating away at him now.

There have been some vague attempts at information gathering, of course, although even his somewhat punisher had seemed oddly apologetic for how amateur it all is. A couple of badly thrown punches, the threat of the Greatest Death Known to Mankind. A bit of starvation along the way.

They hadn't even really done all that much when Kei had almost escaped, rambling down through multiple corridors before they had even realised that he had fashioned a key and gotten free. 

It seemed like a good idea at a time. What an innocent time that had been, back when he could eat his slosh on his own and was allowed free reign of his cell rather than been chained to the wall like some far, far more common prisoner than Kei really is.

Kei has prepared for this, over the years. It is drilled into any team member who is likely to head out on a scouting mission that capture and torture alike are possible outcomes. The training - emotional, physical - is the kind Kei prefers to forget, and if it has prepared him how to masterfully manage pain and interrogation, it has not quite prepared him for this.

Kei is beginning to think that this is perhaps what death feels like, and that it starts still while you are alive, creeping into your mind before spreading down into your lungs and siphoning all the oxygen slowly, painfully from your brain. There are memories and thoughts he is forcefully shutting down, knowing that if he lingers in them for too long that the fear and helplessness that is there will threaten to overtake all.

As Kei remains chained, his arms pulled high and taut and hunger starting to ripple through his stomach, he starts to catalogue his regrets. It isn't a particularly long list, because Kei has a vaguely hedonist streak and a belief that he is unlikely to be long for this world (a mindset well supported by his current state of being), as well as a loose set of principles that he is happy to bend and twist to meet his needs.

He does wish he'd eaten that last, vacuum packed bag of mochi stuffed at the back of his locker. It seems silly now to keep a pack there in case of emergency, when really. How often does an actual emergency happen within the immediate vicinity of the locker room? Only once or twice a year at most. He should have had one always strapped to his chest, or maybe wrapped in a band around his ankle. His stomach grumbles loud in agreement, reminding him that even crunchy air covered with a thick dusting of salt would be considered a four-course meal right now.

Kei also regrets not telling his team that they are nearly, very close to being as awesome as Kei himself is. Well, except for Takeru. The highest praise he has on offer for Takeru is that it is a wonder he has not found himself dead yet given the sheer force of personality he unleashes on the world. Kei doubts he will last long under a new team leader, his ego whittled thin and translucent and nobody making sure that a gun (enemy or otherwise) isn't trained on his back.

No, wait. 

Knowing Takeru's connections, it wouldn't surprise Kei if an executive decision is made to place him as the new squad leader. He can only imagine how their emblem will be replaced with a silhouette of Takeru in profile.

New regret: Kei regrets almightily not accidently maiming Takeru when he had the chance. He has formally doomed his team - neigh, the entire Border operation - to a deeply embarrassingly and unavoidable conclusion.

Because Kei is reflective - being bound has a habit of doing that to him, although his lovers know he prefers when this particular game plays out in reverse - he adds Jin to his list of regrets. It would have been nice to have fought him one more time, to have tasted the full sting of Fujin and have formed a working strategy around it, to tear from Jin all his pride and inflict true defeat. He likes to think that Jin would enjoy it almost as much as Kei - there is something about being untouchable that doesn't suit Jin.

Speaking of untouchable... 

Kei lets out a dramatic sigh, his gaze drifting upwards and a good-humoured smirk making its way to his lips as his mind drifts back to an increasingly familiar place. If Jin wears his untouchability with an almost casual indifference, then Jun dons it like a glittery, sequined cloak. So pretty to look at (and it's really only when you truly look at Jun that you realise just how pretty he actually he is, all emerald eyes and playful smiles, cutely furrowed brows and tall, regal leanness).

Kei has been here for a month. It has been an uncomfortably long time to be left alone with his thoughts on the world outside and the people who live in it.

Because right now, Kei really, _really_ regrets not having slept with Jun. To go to his death without having kissed those lips again, to not have slipped his fingers up under Jun's shirt and along the curve of pale skin that has been untouched by the sun? It seems such a terrible, terrible waste. He knows what Jun's mouth tastes like, but it haunts him now that he will never know the taste of his neck, or his collarbone, will never know if Jun will close his eyes as Kei runs his fingers up the inside of his thighs, or if instead those emerald eyes will simply shatter beneath the slow, lingering touch-

Kei is slightly delirious. He must be, because while his eyes have taken on a vaguely blurry sheen and he has been imagining all sorts of incredible things over these last few days, he's almost certain that this is the first time he has imagined the door of his cell creaking open and his favourite hallucination standing there, backlit by the sterile, prison light.

Well. It’s the first time he’s imagined him there fully clothed, certainly.

Any illusion of this _being_ an illusion ends when Jun steps in, beyond the crawl of the corridor light and cast in a mix of shadows and that special brand of Arashiyama Jun light that even Kei cannot conjure up perfectly. 

“You took your time,” Kei says, voice dry and a little croaky. He likes to think it adds to his sex appeal (it doesn’t) and possibly helps mask the fact that he has been living in his own clothes and skin for an uncomfortably long time (no chance).

“They did a very good job of making you seen dead,” Jun says lightly, and Kei is generous enough in that moment to listen to Jun’s words rather than his eyes. Jun twirls a set of keys around his fingers, his eyes hardening as they lock on the complicated binds that hold Kei’s arms captive. “This should only take a minute.”

It’s with a brittle sort of relief that Kei focuses on the way Jun smells, how comfortable his body slots in against Kei’s as he presses in, up against Kei and reaches up to unlock the shackles that are too high for Jun to reach without pushing up onto his toes Kei has spent these last few days in particular rerouting his thoughts away from a whole host of things he shouldn’t be thinking of – ones to do with slow deaths and whether you can actually tell when it has taken you – to instead breathe in this…

"You almost appear to be enjoying this." Jun’s voice is like his body, warm and perfectly close. Kei thinks he would like a second helping of both, thank you very much.

"Only a fool wouldn’t, Jun, and I have been called many things – most that cannot be repeated in present company - but generally not a fool.” 

It’s a lie, of course. He has been called a fool a hundred times, and it has often been well deserved. But Jun is too polite for such a retort, especially here in the middle of a cell with Kei serving up all his best bruised and battered finery. 

"…Jun?" Jun asks instead, absently, his attention still drawn upwards as he tries a third key, then a fourth. 

"You've missed a lot this past month," Kei says with a lazy smirk. "We're on first name basis now."

"You'll have to catch me up on everything else I've missed," Jun says dryly. He drops his gaze down briefly to Kei then, and really. The sudden softness that creeps into Jun's eyes is unholy and utterly unfair. "You’ve been missed. I'm glad you're ok." There is a sudden rush of emotion that crashes across Jun's features, casting shadows through his eyes, bruising his cheeks and thinning his mouth. Kei picks up fear and hurt and grief, before they are smothered forcefully away and Jun returns his attention back up to the lock. 

Just when Kei thinks he can handle a few more minutes cuffed here, the locks fall into two and Kei’s arms drop heavily to his side. For a moment there is relief, blissful and barely recognisable relief, but as he tries to turn his hands over, tries to feel anything but the heaviness there -

He finds nothing but numbness.

Kei does not panic, not in the middle of a battlefield and not upon discovering that his hands (sort of the cornerstone of your whole life when you happen to be an expert swordsman AND deadly with a pair of chopsticks) are dead weights. But there is a stiltedness to his breath and a growing sense of dread. Of all the things he had been willing to lose, to sacrifice to get out of this wretched hellhole-

Jun watches with sharp eyes, before bending low to where Kei has slid down onto the floor. He briefly (self-consciously) touches Kei’s cheek before he reaches down and gently cups Kei’s hands.

When Jun brings them up (guarded, held like a prized possession that Jun values above all else) and blows gently against Kei’s wrists, his fingers, up along his palm and back down again, Kei doesn’t think anything at all. But something in Kei possibly, maybe, breaks just a touch when that first trickle of pins and needles return (to his wrists, to his fingers, up along his palm and back down again), and itch across his skin. 

Jesus fucking _Christ_. 

He’s starting to think he might just keep Jun in his back pocket for situations exactly like this.

Kei lets out a shudder of a breath, and Jun squeezes his hands once more before letting them go. It’s unfortunate but one of those side effects of having A Moment in the middle of some kind of battle. Kei can hear the gunfire outside his open cell door for the first time, and his mind lurches at the thought that getting out of here in almost one piece is starting to become a reality.

“Ready?” Serious, firm. There is little there now for emotion, and while Kei normally agrees whole heartedly with that sentiment he cannot really be held entirely responsible for his own decisions right now.

“That depends what your offering,” Kei replies, and for the first time Jun’s patience looks a little strained. It doesn’t stop Jun from being a Good Person, however, and he places an arm under Kei's shoulders and half helps, half hoists him to his feet. Kei is just a little wobbly, but Jun lets him brace in against him, taking first one step, then two. By the time they are at the cell door Kei is sadly able to walk on his own, and the middle of a battle is not really the place for feigning any kind of weakness.

"It might be best if you can get some of these down you," Jun says as he pulls out a couple of energy food bars and passes them to Kei, his gaze flickering down the corridor as they wait for some drop in the firing. Even in his current state of hunger, Kei winces. While the bars pack a ton of energy and much needed carbs and protein, somehow an organisation that has managed to master space travel has continuously failed to find any way to make the energy bars palpable. With a distracted but knowing smile, Jun digs back inside his jacket and tosses an additional pack at Kei.

"For dessert." 

Kei catches the packaged mochi clumsily, adoring eyes slowly soaking in the miracle that he holds with his own two hands.

The magazines are right. Jun may just be the most perfect boyfriend material ever.

***

_The internal memo that goes out is brief:_

_The Executive team is pleased to hear that the subject, Tachikawa Kei, has been accounted for. However, the unapproved retrieval attempt led by Shinoda and supported by Tachikawa Squad, Arashiyama Squad, and Tamakoma branch cannot go without punishment. There will be significant consequences for all involved._

***

There is nothing more invigorating than a battle that pushes you close to your limits but which you know, deep down, you are going to win. It allows for a freedom that Kei always carries into battle but often isn't able to play out to its full potential. But this? A violent dance where countless Mole Mods fall at the end of his sword?

This he lives for, breathes for. Gets out of bed to train shirtless at 5am in the morning for.

"It's bad enough getting paired with the Arashiyama unit in the first place," Kohei grumbles, taking down a rampant Mole Mod with none of Kei's natural flair but (almost) the same level of skill. "Are you going to spend the entire time showing off for your creepy little crush?"

"I hope that the 'creepy' part of your comment is a reference to Kei and not myself," Jun's tinny voice says sunnily through their shared earpiece. The other squad leader takes out another encroaching Mole Mod, causing the ground around them to explode with dust and mortar.

"First name basis," Kei nods knowingly over at Kohei, who groans dramatically, painfully. "It's amazing how months locked up in a cell can change a relationship."

"For the last time," Kohei says slowly, rolling his fingers over his trion bullets as he gets ready for his next shot. "You were in that cell, on your own, for all of a month. You haven't even seen Arashiyama-san since _our_ rescue." Kohei places emphasis on the word 'our', rolling his eyes when Kei only rewards him with a grin.

They win, of course. And there is much rejoicing held throughout the land.

Much later, once the villains have been vanquished and Kei is lazily making his way back to his squad common room, he catches the tail end of a conversation between his darling team mates that he is not entirely unsure he is meant to hear.

"Why? WHY? I can't handle another minute with the Arashiyama unit, let alone another day." Ha, it seems as though Kohei has discovered that Shinoda has organised a joint training session for the two teams later in the month. Such a good, kind mentor. "I can’t put up with more of their awkward flirting. I don't get why Kei doesn’t just sleep with him already so things can return to normal."

Kei pauses mid-step, before slowly - comically so - returning his foot to the ground and staying there, standing in the middle of the corridor.

Huh.

"Please. Can you imagine Arashiyama having a one-night stand? I bet he won't even have sex until he's married, and even then only in the dark." Takeru's cackle is obnoxious and cruel, but it is Kohei's comment that has frozen Kei with so little dignity to the spot. He stays there even as their voices drift further away, lost to the corridors and distance that now passes between them.

Why haven't they slept together yet, when the attraction is clearly mutual and Jun has been more than happy to play along?

It's a stupid question, really.

Unfortunately.

Because the attraction had been instantaneous, ravenous.

Because he wants to devour Jun, every single inch of him. From his loose smiles to his frustrating honesty, his easy attempts at flirting to those stray shadows that so curiously appear around him every now and then.

Because Kei is starting to get the distinct feeling that sleeping with Jun is only going to somehow make this terribly, irreversibly worse.

Kei groans, a deep rumble that makes it all the way up into his shoulders.

And THIS is why he never gets involved/not-involved with people like Arashiyama Jun. It becomes complicated.

Fast.

***

__

_“I noticed you withdrew your leave request for next weekend.” Shinoda finds Jun studying some old training tapes long after everyone else has gone home. He has been attempting to hunt down his suddenly difficult to find squad captain since the leave form had appeared on his desk. “I thought you were going away with your family?” It is rare for Jun to request leave, rarer still for him to go through with it._

_Shinoda is not so much surprised as he is concerned._

_“The trip has been cancelled,” Jun says lightly, although even Jun can’t keep a slither of grief from slipping into his tone. “At least, my portion of it has been.” Jun shrugs easily, too easily, and when his smile doesn’t falter Shinoda wonders if Jun is becoming too comfortable with being cast aside._

_Shinoda frowns, and Jun at least looks a little guilty at being caught out._

_There is a mistake that people often make about Shinoda, and it is this: that he has only ever mentored one person and that is Kei. It is a dangerous assumption to make (Shinoda is both too generous with his time and too complete a politician to place all his eggs in one basket), although one that Shinoda has allowed to take root. He remembers those early rumours when Kei joined the Kido faction about how Kei had outgrown him and had been won over by the politics and power of someone else._

_Both of these are true, of course. Kei had outgrown Shinoda, and their politics have never truly aligned. The mistake lies in the assumption that Shinoda hasn’t always wanted both of those things for Kei, and that Kei stands within his own beliefs and abilities with such strength makes Shinoda beam endlessly with pride._

_In Kei, Shinoda had seen incredible, raw talent and instincts as sharp as a sword. He had known instantly that if they were not allowed to take shape – if Kei himself was not allowed to define where those edges lay – that he would find himself forged fully by someone else._

_How similar then, to Jun, who even as a 15-year-old had been a flame that already burned so earnestly, so bright, but who ran so dangerously the risk of burning out in an attempt to keep the world alight. There had been too many politicians and power brokers ready to use that flame to scorch their own mark on the world, leaving nothing but ashes behind._

_There are a few who still try._

_Shinoda cares deeply for both Kei and Jun, protects them both and uses them both. It is not an either/or situation._

_“If this has anything to do with Kei’s rescue-“ Shinoda starts, knowing how ridiculous his words sound._

_It has both everything and nothing at all to do with Kei’s rescue. That Kei sat in that cell for so long had been a way of punishing Shinoda, that Jun now wears the consequences of Shinoda’s decision to forge ahead without authorisation is a continuation of that._

_With Kei and Jun, Shinoda holds too much power that is purely his own. There are those who like to remind Shinoda how easily that power can be shattered._

_“I knew there would be consequences.” Jun is suddenly all business, there is no place now for argument. “It was the right thing to do, and I have no regrets.” This Shinoda does not doubt, although he thinks it would be more humane if he did. “My father is right, however. There has been an increase in anti-Border sentiments in the press these last couple of weeks, in particular ones directed at my unit. It would make an … unpleasant … trip if there were difficulties with other holidaymakers.”_

_Shinoda has meet Jun’s father on a handful of occasions. He is a good man, a hardworking man. He is a man who no longer feels comfortable with who his son has become, and how much power he holds._

_Shinoda mourns for them both._

_“Perhaps you could do something else with your time off. Pick up a hobby. Go on a date.”_

_And, oh. Shinoda has seen Jun wear a hundred different expressions, but this is the first time he has ever seen him blush._

_“I don’t think you’ve ever encouraged me to do so before,” Jun says, and they both know he is not talking about Shinoda’s hobby suggestion._

_“Kei is different,” Shinoda says easily, and it is curious how Jun can’t quite meet his gaze. “I think you would be good for each other.” He says the last part gently, knowingly. Jun is so good at looking after others, it is rare for him to stop and reflect on what he himself might actually want, need. Shinoda has watched the two of them dance unsubtly around each other for months now, and while it remains amusing it is also becoming troubling._

_For all his strengths, this is always where Jun falters._

_If he has become too comfortable with being cast aside by his family, then Jun has also become too familiar with the distance that being the Face of Border creates between him and everyone else. It’s a space that serves as a buffer, a space that is safe, protected._

_Lonely._

_“I don’t know if I will have time,” Jun replies offhandedly, and Shinoda frowns. Jun has always, always been a terrible liar. “Besides,” Jun says with a smile that lingers on heart-breaking before Jun battles that emotion away. “It’s not something I’ve ever been particularly great at, is it?”_

_Jun leaves, promising to look into ways to use his leave/offering to cover additional shifts/thinks he might pick up some dinner on the way home, and Shinoda sinks into the chair he vacates, head heavy._

_There are some things he cannot protect either Jun or Kei from.  
He wishes terribly that he could._

__

***

There are battles that they win with ease, a thousand heroes all memorialised on one loud, endless note of celebration. The public is often invited into such victories, accolades thrown about and the occasional crowning of a new knight or two of vengeance.

There are battles that they fight far away from the oh so curious eyes of others, ones deep beneath the politics or fought instead in a foreign landscape surrounded by a resounding sense of disconnect, victims reduced to numbers before they become rubble.

There are battles lost, twisted and crunched until they somehow seem a victory to the unseeing eye.

And then there are victories like this: one where people die and buildings fall, where too much has been seen and heard and screamed for even Border to make a victory seem as though it is anything but a temporary death inflicted on the city.

This is victory, but it barely feels like it. Kei leans against the corridor wall, bruised and still a bit battered, his uniform creased in the most unflattering ways. He has brushed most of the dust out of his hair and swiped a cloth across his face, and this makes him one of the more presentable members in the whole of Border. He has seen so many agents rumble past; those still wired with adrenalin, those who manage to still walk with purpose even though their eyes have glazed over.

Those who are still here, and a few ghosts that he is damn sure are not.

This is a mess, utterly and completely. The media is having a field day; they have always switched so seamlessly between being Border's biggest advocate (trading cards included), to a stirrer - creator - of hatred and anger and fear.

Kei lets out a tired, pathetic little groan as he relaxes his heavy body back against the wall.

The public hardly requires any assistance stirring up those emotions at the moment. Not with a school attacked, and students dead and injured. There had been too many pressure points, too many different sites to defend and teams spread too thin. 

But, _oh_. Hasn't the press stumbled into the perfect moment right in the middle of this minefield of chaos and loss? Who needs to go looking for a soundbite and a tragedy when one so beautifully presents itself for you to plunder? Because this time, the Arashiyama who is in the headlines isn't one perfectly picked and presented Arashiyama Jun with his pleasant smile and palpable truths.

No.

It is his mother.

Kei doesn't need to close his eyes to recapture the scene that has been shown nauseatingly on loop throughout the evening. Arashiyama-san at the gates of a school that looks so much more like rubble, tearful and terrified as she demands to know what has happened to her young twins and what hospital they have been taken to.

 _Why hasn't Border done enough to protect them?_ Kei remembers her voice, so fuelled with anger and sorrow, woven through with thin threads of hate. _Why doesn't Border care?_ She had been nothing but a vulnerable victim in that moment, a desperate mother crying out for her children to somehow be safe. It doesn't surprise Kei that the reporter had pressed on, feeding into that deep well of shock and mining for more explosive comments, allowing the fear and hatred to take shape.

Jesus. Kei is scratching for a cigarette and he doesn't even smoke. He wonders briefly if it would help, if a cigarette is the equivalent of crushing up a pack of chips, rolling it up, and inhaling the crumbs deep into his lungs. Maybe it isn't even the smoking itself that Kei craves, but to hold onto something tight and then release some of the tension that is sitting in his fingers, his knuckles, his wrists. 

When asked about Jun, Arashiyama-san’s eyes had gone blank, confused and uncomprehending. 

The whereabouts of her oldest son - his safety and wellbeing - had not for a moment crossed her mind. 

Kei’s parents? 

_Well._

He’s received over 15 increasingly embarrassing texts from both of them in the last hour alone. 

Kei stays there in the corridor, sans-cigarette, for 10 minutes. 20 minutes. It’s a mixture of patience and a bone deep tiredness that keeps him there, anything else he is not yet prepared to admit to. Laziness certainly would have carried him back to his plush, comfort apartment with nary a backwards wave. He gets an occasional nod of acknowledgement from those making their own trek home, most paired with solemn looks that make an already dreary day that much heavier. 

Jun doesn’t see Kei as he enters the corridor. If the corridor has been until now passage for half-zombies and possible ghosts, then Jun is something else altogether. He must keep a wardrobe somewhere onsite of perfectly pressed uniforms, because the one he is wearing is savagely crisp and without a speck of the dirt or blood that Kei knows Jun was wearing earlier. His hair is clean, bouncy even, as Jun walks down the corridor, and he is clearly a man who has found time for a shower and full facial scrub. 

Kei isn't used to be an oversight, forgotten, but It’s probably for the best. 

It means Jun has no defence when Kei loops an arm out and wraps it around Jun’s waist, dragging him in one smooth, foul movement out of the corridor and back into the disused storage closet that Kei just happens to be standing beside. A shocked gasp of surprise escapes through those painfully clenched lips, but it is all too late. Kei is a man of stealth, planning. 

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Jun demands curtly, eyes blazing in the low, insipid light, his voice hoarse with surprise and – dear lord – a horrendously deep pain that doesn’t below in the other boy at all. Jun tries to tug away but he is nothing now but a perfect shell, and this is Kei at his strongest, least flexible. “I have an interview that I have to be at in half an hour,” Jun’s voice starts cracking, splintering around the edges before being forced violently back together again. “I have to-“ 

Kei drags Jun in against his chest, wraps his arms tight around him and refuses to let go. Jun struggles first, and then second, and then with a broken sob drops his head down onto Kei’s shoulder and _stays_. 

Kei’s grip tightens, and he presses his mouth down onto the top of Jun’s head, rests his forehead there as the tremors shatter through Jun, rumbling down through him as clings tightly to everything that Kei is offering. 

Kei feels a spark of anger, and wonders if this may have been just a little more sensible if Arashiyama-san had expressed any concern for the wellbeing of her oldest son, as well. 

Jun knows how to deal with death and destruction, but what is being destroyed here is something different entirely. 

It lasts only a few minutes. That Jun is sparing himself even that seems almost remarkable. This time when Jun pulls back Kei allows him to do so, although he leaves his hand on Jun’s hip, his fingers smoothing small circles there. It’s really a work of art how quickly Jun rearranges himself back to presentable, all his crumbled features and shattered eyes coming back together to present something that Kei is wholly more familiar with. Jun breathes deeply, shakily, then deeply again. 

And then, it is quiet between them. 

“Thank you,” Jun says finally, quietly, with a slight bow of his head that brings his hair sliding in front of his eyes and briefly hides him away. “I … I don’t know, how to manage this,” he smiles hopelessly, hesitantly sharing some of that weight with Kei. 

It seems only fair. Kei’s sexy, strong shoulders aren’t there simply for show. 

“Do what you always do,” Kei says simply, as if it is the easiest thing in the world. 

It isn’t. But it is what Jun does best, and Kei is slowly coming to realise just how powerful Jun’s best is. 

Half an hour later Kei is in his squad’s common room, surrounded by a team who are in their own varying states of zombification. It is one of those nights when they are all still too much on edge to venture further than PlayStations and abandoned closets (and oh, haven't his thoughts of sharing dark and tight spaces with Jun played out so very differently in his head?). The TV plays silently in the background, but Kohei is lightning fast with the remote when the endless repeats end and Jun suddenly appears for the first time. 

Kei thinks this scene is playing out all across the city, throughout Border. Today has been a shit day, and yet even his greatest critics will be stopping to take pause to hear what Arashiyama Jun has to say. 

The Border elite are nothing but a bunch of cowards. 

“Arashiyama, there are so many questions about how this has been managed. Your own mother had some questions of her own, how would you answer them?” 

What a delightful little snot. 

Even Kohei looks less than impressed, and maybe this is one thing that bonds them all together: war is hard enough without family being brought into it. 

Jun smiles, tired and honest and sad. His professionalism doesn’t slip so much as it is put to the side, and Kei wonders again who thought that it was a good idea to place all this weight on the shoulders of one person. 

“I would say to my mother – to everyone – that I would like to know the answer to both her questions as well.” The admission is a little heart-breaking, even as resolve hardens Jun's eyes and collapses his smile into something a little more purposeful, a little grimmer. "This is not an acceptable outcome, there will be a full review. I can assure you all of that.” Kei knows that if there hadn’t been one planned, there is now. “And, like so many others out there tonight, I am unsure which hospital my younger brother has been taken to." Jun falters, but continues on. “I understand that my sister is at home, safe, but that Fuku may have broken his leg in the attack and will be waiting somewhere for surgery. I would be grateful for any updates.” 

Kohei whistle low, and even Kei is impressed. In the hands of anyone else, this would be social manipulation at its absolute finest. A PR stunt for the ages. For Jun, it is something else entirely, but as a result comes at a much higher cost. 

Actual, purposeful vulnerability. 

"Ice to Eskimos," Takeru sneers, unsettled. 

"Well, what else would you sell them?" Kei asks absently, as Jun fields a handful more questions before excusing himself. "It's not like Eskimos have anywhere to plug in a heating unit. Ice is something that they can do something with, build with." 

It's late when Kei returns to his apartment but he’s still not ready to sleep. He pours himself a drink, then two, flicks his cell phone between his hands and wonders if he should make a call- 

__

***

_Contrary to popular belief, it is not that Jun doesn't date, it is just that he has a habit of not being particularly good at it. A quick evaluation of his dating history reveals some startling consistent groupings that his dates/somewhat relationships have fallen into:_

_Partners who are attracted to Arashiyama's fame and brilliant smile, but find Jun himself a devastating disappointment._

_Those who enjoy a good one-night stand, but really have to be somewhere in the morning and who never call back._

_Those who see Jun as some sort of prize to be won and then owned._

_Or those who just take, regardless._

_And then there is - was - Kakizaki, who forms a category all of his own. First love, only love really, as quickly as that love had turned to something else. First kiss. First fondle, first time having sex (too quick, too soon, but Jun is so young in that moment and utterly desperate to please). A sterling, perfect example for how no matter how much Jun gives, no matter how much he is prepared to sacrifice, or to let his morals and values slip, there is something intrinsically within him that is never quite strong enough, or good enough, nor wanted enough to make someone decide to stay._

_(and it starts there with Kakizaki but it doesn’t stay there, just like Kakizaki himself doesn’t. His father drifts away into his work, his mother towards siblings who deal in detentions and good grades instead of bloodshed and the always present threat of death, and his brother and sister towards each other because Jun has become something both uncool and unrecognisable off in his castle/lonely apartment)._

_(He misses them. More than that, he misses when they remembered him as Jun rather than the distant Arashiyama. They’re … they’re no longer in touching distance and this gap between them is starting to feel like ice)_

_Kei ... Kei doesn't fall easily into any of those categories, but there is a sudden, disgraceful fear that he must. How can he not, when in this horrible, twisted shell of a day when he has been nothing more than Arashiyama to the entire world, all Jun remembers is the warmth of being wrapped in his arms?_

_It's been a while since Jun has been held. Since he’s allowed himself to be._

_It shakes him to his core._

_He is not dealing with this as well as he should be._

_Jun receives a text when he gets home, a 1am text that means that the world is getting ready to fall apart. It is not from Kei as part of him is fearing (he is not ready for the other part, not yet), but from his past._

_[Tachikawa, huh? He's probably a much better match for you than I ever was, good luck]_

_Jun's fingers shake as he snaps his phone closed._

_Then open again._

_Then closed._

_Then open again._

_He really is the worst kind of coward._

__

***

[We have got to stop doing this. I'm sorry.]

And so, they stop. What else is there really Kei can do? There are few forces more powerful than a text sent at 2am, especially ones that put to an end a relationship that never actually was. Jun fades back into Arashiyama, with his distant perfection and warm, all encompassing (rather than privately piercing) gaze, and Kei returns to flirting with the attractive admin assistant who is both delighted and a little taken aback by Kei's sudden reappearance after having spent weeks, months-

(8 months, almost 9) 

\- completely preoccupied elsewhere.

If his team notice at all, then they are obnoxiously subtle about it. There are the odd looks that pass between them, ones that run the gauntlet of nauseating to pained to - dear lord - just a little bit concerned, but even that seems to disperse a little when Kei comes in one day, his hair poorly brushed and a slow, crawl of a smirk moving across his lips.

Admin assistant turns out to be a rather delightful distraction, after all. It's been months since Kei has had a proper fling, one flush with easy touches, inappropriate sex, and an occasionally good leer. 

When he passes Arashiyama in the corridor it is with an easy enough professionalism.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know." Naturally, Jin and all his casual shittiness has to make a reappearance just as Kei is settling back into normality. "It's also not like you to back down from a challenge."

"You don't understand," Kei says morosely. "He sent me a text. At 2am in the morning.”

What Kei doesn’t say is that he isn’t the one who gave up, and he’s not entirely sure why Arashiyama did.

Kei hates it when Jin has a point, and so he carries Jin’s words with him as he returns to his apartment block and steps into the elevator that takes him up to his expensive suite. He’s gotten good at blocking Arashiyama from his thoughts, but their return isn’t entirely unwelcome. 

The elevator dings open.

Jun is there. Leaning against Kei's front door, tall and lean and decked in red, cloudy eyed and clearly lost in thought. It takes the other boy a moment to register Kei’s arrival, and he has the bad grace to look taken aback by Kei’s presence.

"You know," Kei says casually, moving forward before stopping in front of Jun. "You really shouldn't look so surprised to see me here. I do happen to drop by my apartment occasionally." 

The corner of Jun's mouth quirks up, but the seriousness in his eyes remain.

"I owe you an explanation." Jun says it so matter-of-factly, which of course. Serious eyes and serious thoughts. "I let things become-" Jun breaks off for a moment, and the corner of his mouth twitches hopelessly again. "Complicated."

It's such a good word. Complicated.

"Oh, are we blaming all this on you?" Kei says, unable to keep himself from teasing, toying. "Because I am just about terrible enough to go with that." He leans in against the corridor wall, gaze never flickering from green.

Jun simply watches him for a moment, before closing his eyes and drawing in a breath. When he opens them again, there is a hint of helplessness there that Kei just wants to lap up.

"I can't do this." Jun's smile twists into something just a little less pretty. "I don't do this." Kei raises an eyebrow, and it is enough for Jun to keep going. "Casual sex. Relationships. Or at least," Jun autocorrects with a dry smile, "I don't do it _well_."

Ooh, and isn’t there a story there that Kei wants to unravel, one plot hole at a time.

"And yet, here you are."

"Because it was wrong to try and say that via text." Jun responds easily, comfortable and prepared as he holds Kei's gaze. "I apologise for that."

It’s a perfectly adequate response.

"There is just one problem." Kei says, stepping into Jun’s space and wholly ignoring the warning that flickers through those green eyes. "I want you," Kei murmurs, brushing the back of his fingers down the smooth expanse of Jun’s neck, and Jun is frozen, caught. Kei leans in against Jun’s hair, breathes down the elegant tilt of his earlobe. "Solely and utterly." He presses his lips against that flirt of collar bone that sits exposed beneath Jun’s jacket, delights in the shudders he elicits there. Kei’s gaze flicks upwards. "I want to take everything you have and claim it as my own. Your laughter, your smile. I want to taste you, to burn with you."

"Kei-" there's a broken, desperate warning in his voice now, desperation for Kei, desperation for some semblance of control.

"We don't have to do this right, and we certainly don't have to do it well." Kei is greedy, not a perfectionist. "And I get it," he adds offhandedly, because he does - has known the uncomfortable truth for weeks now. "This moved beyond the possibility of just having a very sexy, slightly awkward one-night stand months ago." A tiny smile skims the corner of Kei’s mouth. "I want more. I need more.” 

He pauses, and Jun is lost.

“And so do you." Kei says finally, because he is starting to get to know some of the ripples that lay so tantalising close beneath all of Jun's strengths. "More than comrades you desperately need to protect, more than a public who prefers you as 2D cut out," Kei pauses again for just a second, but Jun is unflinching even knowing what is coming next. "You need more than just a family who loves you but sometimes forgets to actually care." There is a flicker - a heartbroken flicker - before Jun is back to being perfectly still. There is no point in denying it. "You also are in need of a seriously, _seriously_ good fuck."

Jun's eyes fly open in surprise, and then he is laughing, a full body laugh that rumbles down through his shoulders and shakes out through his toes. Somehow Jun's hands are on Kei's shoulders as he braces himself against the laughter.

And then Jun's mouth is pressed again Kei's own, and Kei finally, finally has the chance to swallow him whole. He deepens the kiss, widens it beyond this moment and drags in the months of teasing, the torturous time spent alone, the shape of Jun's smile and the width of his laughter. His hand slips up under Jun's jacket, his shirt, finds purchase in the small of his back and _oh_ has Kei been starving for this.

And Jun is pressed up against him, desperate fingers tangling in his hair and Kei tugs him in closer, so close that he feels each of Jun's rising breaths as they lurch up through his chest, tastes that helpless, bubblingly laughter on his tongue.

When it ends, briefly, before lips find each other again and then it ends once more, Kei thinks that this is best way ever to come home from an average day at work.

"It sounds like there is a lot you are volunteering for," Jun says, a little breathless and a lot pretty. Even now Jun's gaze retains its sharpness, his mouth a gentle curve of kindness and warmth and uncertainty.

It's cute, too, how Jun is expecting Kei to have some kind of altruistic motive.

"Oh no," Kei corrects with a smirk. Dear lord, no. He is not a charity, although he is happy to be of service in many different, sexy ways. "I intend to charge for my service. And don't think you're getting any discounts just because you have a great arse."

Jun's burst of laughter ghosts across Kei's cheeks and catches in the corner of his mouth, and Jun really is utterly delightful when he laughs. As Kei's hand splay across Jun's back, he feels an unfamiliar tremor through his own fingers.

"Thank you," Kei says quietly, genuinely, and there is nothing but patient curiosity in Jun's eyes in that moment as Kei lifts a hand to cup Jun's face, to press his lips lightly against Jun's before pulling back inches, inches only so that he can capture that gaze and hold it. "For being the light in the darkness."

The creeping quiet, the endless dark of Kei’s cell all those months ago had threatened to destroy him from the inside out. But for every moment of doubt, of fear, there had been something else.

Emerald eyes.

A determined smile.

A sprig of mistletoe, and an unexpected tug forward.

Of all the places that Kei expected that Christmas party to take him (and to be fair, he had been anticipating ending up in someone’s bed), battlefields and alien prisons, university grounds and barely used closets seemed really rather unlikely at the time.

Kei is starting to understand just a little now how brightly Jin burns, having found that flame even in his own moment of utter darkness. Maybe it's why Kei thinks he's happy to explore those shadows that sometimes cling to Jun as well, sees a debt that can and will be repaid.

Besides. Jun's shadows are far, far more interesting than an empty room with poor room service.

Jun presses his own kiss in against Kei’s mouth, a quiet ‘you’re welcome’ that words cannot express, although there is an edge of something more.

“Does this mean you are going to invite me inside?” Jun’s eyes are warm, inviting, although a hesitation lingers there that Kei is happy enough to answer to.

"Believe it or not, there is something else I've been wanting to do for months now," Kei responds, and Jun has the grace (and likely a moral fibre that Kei himself pleasantly lacks) to look curious rather than disappointed.

***

_There is a tiny izakaya that sits in a row of tiny izakayas. There is enough space there for five people, six if you count standing space only. The meat is tender and the beer is cold, and the laughter rings deep into the night as businessmen make the long journey home._

__

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_Two young men sit there, and share a meal._


End file.
